Arya stiffened as her mother glared at her from her throne.
Islanzadi sat in Arya's Father's seat, a resplendent ebony chair that seemed to loom over all others in the royal chambers. The seat itself was nearly twelve feet high.
Long thorns bristled from the black wood as Islanzadi's white hands curled over the polished arms, fashioned in the likeness of panthers. Jade green eyes lustered underneath a luminous golden crown with curling horns that traveled upwards, above her head.
Aurulent hair traveled down to the bottom of her breasts, which were covered by a midnight shaded tunic, red embroidery as dark as blood etched onto the stomach of the dressing, fashioned in the sigil of her House, the red raven of Valbhorethlian.
Her legs wore a similarly colored blouse, and her feet were wrapped in silver silk, resting on two thick thorns that were placed conveniently below them.
At the foot of the throne, an armored Elfman stood, a large great-sword in his hands. Gloved hands wrapped around the hilt, the sword raised over the left side of his breast. They were completely alone, and the silence that came from Islanzadi seemed suffocating.
"Have you no thoughts of my decision?" Arya questioned, dressed in a white tunic and leather trousers. Her black hair was long, nearly to her waist, with streaks of white running through it. Like her mother, and all of her people, long ears poked from the side of her head, curving upwards elegantly. Islanzadi's gaze hardened.
"You are to bow when you address your queen." She said coldly.
Arya swallowed her annoyance, lowering herself to one knee. Islanzadi sat quietly as she regarded her daughter, and then waved her hand, signaling Arya to stand.
"I have thought about your decision. It is madness . . . how could you be so selfish?" Islanzadi asked. Her voice was melodic and light, but anyone could tell that a great inferno of anger burned behind them.
"They need me. You heard their cry for help. It is the only way." Arya could not believe her mother.
Evander would be riding out himself, an entire host behind him. But Islanzadi prefers to fester in Du Weldenvarden . . .
"The plight of the human lords is none of your concern. None of our concern. You know the price for meddling in their affairs . . . Your Father rode out to fight their wars, remembering tales of old, and where are we now? Half of our empire destroyed and your father lies dead. "
"This is not a matter of humans, Mother. They have retrieved the egg . . . they are fleeing towards us. I have told you previously, a small group, perhaps fifteen could meet them, and escort the egg back here."
Islanzadi scoffed bitterly.
"So the fools have an egg. Do you think that the egg is a hope? If so, you are as vapid as the humans. An egg means nothing if it will not hatch."
Arya reddened. How could she be so stubborn?
"There is a chance . . . " She began, but Islanzadi cut her off with a buffet of laughter.
"A chance? Yes, once you have the egg, simply parade it around Du Weldenvarden, give it to everyone, let everyone have a chance at hatching it. If all else fails, we can host a tourney in the human lands, let everyone attempt to hatch it. Hopefully Galbatorix will not notice."
"I will not let them get a hand on the egg. Regardless of what you think, there is hope. If you haven't noticed, dozens of our own have been flocking to the Varden under the cover of night. It is time to rouse the Houses sworn to us by right, and march down on the Empire, and retake our lands."
" And join the Varden? I will not trade one master for another. Your Father spoke like this, and as his consort, I had no choice but to agree with him. However, I am Queen now. I refuse to listen to such nonsense. The Laen Elves will remain where they are. The Elven Triumvirate supports my decision."
Arya knew it was hopeless. The leaders of the three castes differed on many things, but war was one thing they agreed on. None of them had the courage to fight, to win back what had been taken from them.
"I do not like humans more than you do, Mother. But I am no fool, if this egg can be secured it will be the first strike against the Empire-"
"A first strike? Are you truly inane? You successfully retrieve the egg, and then what? Return here? It would be the death of us." Arya felt her fingers dig into her palms. She was right . . . in her anxiousness, she had not realized what to do with the egg. Bringing it back to Du Weldenvarden would be the death of her people.
"Do not forget it takes nearly eight years for a newborn dragon to mature. If your foolishness somehow succeeded, do you think we could hold off the Empire for so long? You are a fool, Arya. And any Elves fleeing to the Varden are fools as well."
"I could have just left. I didn't have to tell you."
"Then why did you? You wanted my approval. Seventy-years old, and still looking towards your mother for guidance. It is because you inherited all of your Father's courage and none of my intelligence. If you were to die in this vanity, our line would vanish. Did Evander perish just so you could follow him to the grave?" A tear glistened in Islanzadi's eye, but when she blinked it vanished.
"Forget this foolishness and remain here, where it is safe. You are young, Arya."
"You know I cannot." Arya said with finality, and Islanzadi watched her with those bright eyes.
"Then leave. And if you return with that egg, you will find Du Weldenvarden barred from you. Aryano Eselan-raisa dun refara." The curse fell on Arya like a heavy blanket.
Islanzadi slumped forward slightly- A binding spell was one of the most powerful magics one could inflict on another. Arya felt it slither across her body, tightening around her arms and stomach and legs.
"You will be unable to return here if you have that abominable egg with you. I would rather suffer your death than receive the wrath of the Forsworn and their damnable King. Go, if you must, but do not return unless you mean to stay, and live up to your birthright." Arya did not flatter her mother with a response.
She simply turned and walked down the long marble room until she left the throne.
The palace was empty. A few Sealed Elf servants quietly moved around inside the regal holdings, watering plants and cleaning pictures that were thousands of years old. Outside the room of the Throne, she found a large expanse of space, a blubbering fountain in the center of the room. It was circular in shape, with banners falling from each smooth curve. Arya moved swiftly, tears welling in her eyes.
She knew her mother disapproved . . . but to curse her? Was she truly that afraid? Maybe she was right. Arya was born a few years after the fighting had ended one hundred years ago. She had not seen the violence, only had it described to her by the older ones of her people. She left the palace promptly, and looked at the vast kingdom her mother ruled after going through the golden gate.
The Laen Elves were people of beauty, and it reflected in their homes. From the hill of the palace, there were no trees, but rather thousands of white-stone buildings, ornate in their design. Between them, cobbled marble roads were found, snaking between the flat houses like a bleached serpent. She turned to look at the gate of her palace one last time, and then descended into the city.
It was always quiet here, the low murmurings of speech and the twiddle of stringed instruments filled the air like whispering ghosts. She walked through all of that, however, reaching the extremities of the entire city.
She found another gate, supported by two watch towers on either side. At the base of the gate, Arya gazed sharply at her party.
Seventeen elves, about half of them mounted, and a free horse for her. She approached them, and they greeted her respectfully.
"Aursio Arya," A handsome elf named Elyenorthuril greeted. He had golden hair and slanted eyes of which burned a bright blue. She had chosen him to lead her party, having greater understanding of the human holdings.
His father, Arusoa of Jalineor, was a bold Elf, and routinely scouted out human lands. Elyenorthuril was in line to be the next Arusoa of his House, and as such he knew nearly as much about human lands as his father did.
Arya mounted her horse, and one of the elves with her called out to the gatekeeper. In seconds, the yellow portcullis opened.
Arya and her party rode through. The Laen Elves called the entirety of the far eastern lands Du Weldenvarden, a title from their own language. It often led others to believe that the Laen Elves had dominion over all of the land- where, in actuality, they didn't. While the Laen Elves were in fact the leading race of the Elven Triumvirate . . . the control they actually manifested on the Wood and Dark elves was merely face value. The Arusoa of their ilk listened when they were told something . . . but rarely carried out the orders of the queen. They were all Elves, but they were not united.
She could see why. The Xoshan Elves lived on the borders of Laen Elf territory, and they had not touched the ancient forests like Arya's kind had. The trees there grew massive and thick, snaking vines drooping from overgrown branches covered with leaves as large as Arya's hand. Beasts roamed those jungles, and unlike the Laen and Sealed Elves, the Elves of Wood did not believe the eating of flesh to be a sin. Many Laen Elves often told of the sickening smell of roasting meat rising from jungle villages . . . but they never did anything about it. The Laen Elves could criticize all they wanted, but the Xoshan Elves were dangerous.
Arya found herself frightened by the prospect of meeting them. Still, they rode out to the edge of the forest, and suddenly the trees went from being small and scattered to gigantic and clustered. Their horses navigated over green roots and snarling bushes. The smells always enthralled her. In the Laen Elf cities, everything was so clean and trim. The only smells were of rushing water and freshly cut greens. Here . . . there was an earthiness to it, a savage scent that disgusted yet entranced. She found herself mesmerized by the bright red flowers that stuck from tree trunks, beautiful to the eye, but actually sucking life from the ancient tree to sustain itself. They came across a bubbling river, and were forced to wait as a horned bear, nearly sixteen feet tall at the shoulder, regarded them and slowly lumbered past.
"I can feel them watching." Elyenorthuril whispered to Arya, falling back so she could ride with him.
"Is that fear I sense, coming from the great Elyenorthuril Jorintheil, heir to the Jalineor region and future Arusoa of his house?"
Elyenorthuril mocked offense, turning away from Arya and clutching his neck.
"Oh, Arya, you wound my honor!" he cried as they passed over a stretch of long trees, vines dangling down to their faces.
"How can honor be wounded when none has been earned?" a voice slithered.
Arya's alarms instantly went off, and Elyenorthuril hissed as he drew his own blade, a curved weapon crafted of enchanted silver. The rest of their party armed themselves as well, and the voice laughed.
"If I wished, I could kill you all . . .squeezed between the trees, it would be a simple thing to end all of your lives. I do carry more than seventeen arrows, after all."
Arya looked up to the overgrowth above, searching for the source. Her eyes scanned the leaves for irregularities, a break in the pattern . . . until she saw it.
Two yellow eyes peered at her through the green, and she saw them shine with merriment.
"You're a smart one. Of course, I could still kill you, but at least you saw me. Most beings do not have that pleasure."
The eyes vanished, and there was a slight shaking above.
Arya jumped as a massive panther clambered down the trunk of the tree and bounded over her and Elyenorthuril, landing in front of their party.
"An Xoshan." Elyenorthuril seethed. The Panther widened its eyes and laughed again.
"Oh my. And here I thought all animals talked." It joked.
Elyenorthuril reddened, sheathing his weapon.
"You shouldn't threaten your Princess." He warned. The panther laughed again, leaning forward on its paws as it sat.
"My princess? Does she look like one who should lead me? Does she look powerful enough? I will respect her, but do not be so haughty as to think the Xoshan Elves bow to you pretentious fools."
Elyenorthuril began to protest, but Arya placed a firm hand on his arm, quieting down.
"He meant no offense; he is simply very zealous in his duty to protect his Aursio. I do not believe I rule you or your people, despite titles that claim otherwise." She said neutrally, and the panther smiled again.
"Diplomatic. But do know titles mean nothing when burned. You made quite the noise, many of my brothers and sisters complained. You might imagine a rather large bear . . ." Arya's eyes widened as she remembered the creature.
"He was an Elf?" She asked, amazed. The Panther nodded.
"Was? Is. We all have different forms, depending on our clan and our birth. Regardless, it begs to be asked . . . what does a party of Laen Elves require that they must come rushing through our sacred forests and streams? One or two of you moving through is acceptable. . but so many."
Arya did not want to tell this creature her dealings, but she had no choice.
"We are leaving Du Weldenvarden to assist humans who have dealt a major blow to the Empire. My Mother refused them, and so I am here in her stead."
"Ah, Ah! the young love to die, it seems." He said.
Arya had to contain her anger.
"If we do not help, then there will be no hope for us all. Even your sacred trees will burn under Galbatorix's fire." She spoke with steel anger.
"Then I am glad I have come. I am joining you, for I too have dealings in the human lands." The panther purred.
"I won't allow this, Xoshan. We are on official business-" Elyenorthuril began.
"You are welcome to join us." Arya said, overriding Elyenorthuril. The Panther looked at Arya, and then Elyenorthuril with glee in his eyes.
"I believe your princess has spoken." It said.
"I don't like it either, but the more help we have getting to the Kingdom of Men.. the better." Arya finished, eyeing the black, oversized cat as it licked its paws.
Elyenorthuril glared, but said nothing.
"What are you called?" Arya asked.
"I am known in your tongue as Solembum." The panther's eyes gleamed.
Arya squinted as Solembum pounced back into the trees above them. Large leaves fell, slowly drifting to the dirt and moss covered ground.
Elyenorthuril tsked and gave Arya a look of annoyance.
"You can't be serious about bringing him, can you?" He asked. Arya smiled slyly.
"I am. I suppose I must admit that I am curious about the Xoshan Elves. They are so close, yet so foreign." Elyenorthuril sighed as Solembum landed softly on his paws before them.
In his massive jaws a curved bow hung by the string, and a thick leather quiver of arrows tied to the wood of the ranged weapon dangled lazily, inches away from the ground. Solembum looked at them with his yellow eyes.
"Justh a momenth" He said, and then dropped his tools. They landed on the dirt with a heavy thud.
Solembum arched his back so that it was higher than his head, and the Elf's tail swiped about wildly. He began to grow smaller, his black fur retreating into his skin. Paws became hands while forelegs shaping into those similar to Arya's own. His eyes remained yellow. Solembum's face morphed into an angular hairless visage, light brown. Thinned lips smiled at Arya, revealing a mouth with large canines. He was naked, his body sculpted and lean.
Elyenorthuril leaned forward in his saddle.
"Have you no decency?!" He cried, growing angrier as he noticed Arya's critical eyes narrowing at the Xoshan.
"Decency? I have plenty. However, depending on my mood..." He flashed Arya a handsome smile.
She turned her head away, frowning.
"I may be curious about your kind, but I have no need for a fool." Arya said calmly.
Solembum leaned over, and the leather covering his quiver of arrows was actually wrapped clothing. In the end, he wore a dark brown leather shirt, tight enough to hint at his muscled body. His legs were slightly less covered, his trousers only reaching to his mid-thigh, but they were also looser, having a baggier appearance.
"Shall we be off, then?" He said with a smile. Elyenorthuril glowered.
"How will you be able to keep up on foot?" He asked.
"You'll find that I'll manage." He answered with what was now a trademark smirk.
Arya learned the truth of that well enough. As they moved through the forest, Solembum was able jog abreast of them.
He took his place by Arya's side. His hair was long, his skin the color of light wood. He possessed high cheekbones, and a dimpled smile that glowed every time he looked at her. She was aware of her own attractiveness, aware of how many Elves longed for her, but this was the first time another being had been so blatant about their feelings. Laen Elves have very formal and dignified courting customs, often waiting months before actually engaging the one they liked in conversation. Any young Laen Elf would be mortified by Solembum's forwardness.
Elyenorthuril was sullenly silent as they rode.
Solembum more than overcompensated for that. He was always talking, either telling Arya about his clan, the Oyran'thu, or the woods of Du Weldenvarden, which in the tongue of the Wood Elves was called Aurehthema Hakodai . The Xoshan Elves believed that they were the first Elves, the first beings who roamed Alagaesia. It seemed true enough- Arya knew that Xoshan Elf oral tradition claimed to span tens of thousands of years, much longer than the written histories of the Laen Elves. However, their tales and history was often mixed with myth, the only sure thing that came from their tales was that the First Rider was a Xoshan Elf.
As they progressed the woods became less and less crowded, and the space between the trees gave them more breathing room. Arya's party spread out slightly, increasing their speed as they reached the edge of the wood. It was still far off, but Arya could see in the distance a gray and brown clearing.
The humans fled Uru'baen, only for one of their mages to discover that a host was massing, and riding towards them from the North. They had no other chance but to cross the Dead Lands, a stretch of cursed land that was taken from the Elves by the Suheliel Omshurtag. They had said they were headed towards Valion's keep, an abandoned fortress that had held back swarms of Dwarves, Urgals, and even Human rulers, until a tenuous peace was settled when the first Langfeld took the throne.
Valion's only son, Valarion, died by the hands of the High Elve's own Rider, a woman whose name was detested and unspoken by all of her people. Arya knew not of this cursed Rider, but she did know that the Rider was her elder sister.
The Suhureliel Omshurtag, Witch-Sear. It was her that lead to the destruction of the Elven Empire, forcing them to retreat deeper into their old ancestral keepings.
"There, just ahead. The wood ends." Elyenorthuril said, Arya gazing before her.
He was right.
The trees slowly shrunk and dwindled away, leaving open pockets of scarred earth that still smoked. The Elven magic users, a band called the Namaheriel, had spent their lives to seal the land to make sure Galbatorix would never profit from it. In truth, The curse was the only thing that held back invasion. But for how long? Arya was not blind- Galbatorix would not simply let the Elves keep to their own dealings, as her mother believed. He had a goal, though Arya knew not of what it was.
They spurred on ahead, Hooves scraping against the hard and spiked ground.
Arya offered to let Solembum share horse with one of her followers, but he explained that the soles of his feet were tougher than any shoe. They continued on, eventually coming across the black and charred fort of Valion. Arya squinted, searching for signs of life.
"I see no one." Elyenorthuril stated, and Solembum laughed.
"They are here. They reek of fear and blood, but they are here. Use your magic to sense what I smell."
Arya took his advice, and reached out with her magic. Sure enough, she could feel the lives of thirteen humans huddled within the keep.
She felt as they retreated from her gentle touch.
"Careful. They know we are here, though they do not know that we are friends." She warned, and slowly urged her horse forward. The others did the same, and two men, armed with bows, suddenly appeared on the walkway of the black walls, made of ancient stone, long charred.
"Queen Islanzadi?" one of them called. Arya opened her mouth wide and responded.
"No, her daughter. The Queen has refused to meet you, so I am here in her stead. While I cannot allow you entry into Du Weldenvarden, I can escort you to wherever you need to go."
The bowmen fell back into the fort, and Elyenorthuril sighed, plodding ahead to meet with the humans. Eventually, they all waited around it, standing in burned earth that reeked of ash and pit. Skeletons littered the area, metal armor fused to their bones. Some corpses were still slightly covered with leathery skin, muscled dried and pulled back, giving them the appearance of cheerful phantoms. Flags crusted on the ground, attached to rusting poles and rotting wood. There were no animals, not even birds. They stopped at the wooden gate of the Fort, which was riddled with holes as large as Arya's head.
There was a creaking, and the doors pulled open, revealing a wary looking group of humans, robed and armored. Some were mounted, some were not. Arya saw the bowmen, their weapons still drawn.
"I am Princess Arya of House Valbhorethlian, rightful ruler of the Du Weldenvarden Marches, seat of the great city Gillendel of the Thorn Throne, keeper of the Veridantheil libraries of Ellesmera."
There was a pause.
Solembum coughed.
"I am Solembum." He said with a grin, and Elyenorthuril seethed.
"One does not address themselves after the Princess, unless they belong to the opposing party and are of equal station!" He hissed.
Solembum shrugged plainly.
"I just felt like hearing my own name." He said, to which Elyenorthuril ignored.
"I am Karnal Theris, of House Fhelan, sworn to House Langfeld, and subject to Orrin Langfeld, rightful King of Alaegasia." The man bowed.
Arya nodded her head at him.
"It is . . . most distressing that Her Highness refuses us . . . does she know the cargo we carry?" Karnal asked. Arya frowned then, displeasure at her mother growing.
"She does. She believes you will bring war to our people."
"War comes and goes, it does not choose who it will afflict." Karnal said with annoyance.
"So close . . . months of planning . . . deaths of the best of our agents . . . including my own son . . ." Karnal's frown deepened.
"I am sorry for your loss, but we must decide on a course of action quickly. Time is not on our side." Elyenorthuril said. Karnal glared, but agreed.
"You are right, Laen Elf. If your Queen will not admit us . . . we must find a way back to Orrin. He is in Surda right now with half of the Varden's forces, but the rest of our allies are found within the lands of House Yorbar, near the dwarven holdings."
"Have they openly declared for Orrin?" Arya asked.
"No, which is why it would be our safest bet. The Empire will no doubt search the lands of smaller and declared Houses. I pray that searching is all that they will do, as many lords and their sons left their lands undefended, to bolster Orrin's forces as they recaptured Surda's surrounding territories."
Ayra knew that the Empire would do far more than search, and she knew that many Lords would find themselves widows, with dead second born sons and young daughters.
As they prepared, some of Karnal's men had to share saddle with Elyenorthuril's. To their credit, they did not complain, and were expressionless as humans wrapped their arms across their stomachs. Karnal still had his own horse, as leader of his group.
Inside his worn cloak a box gleamed. Arya's eyes caught sight of it as her heart stopped.
The Egg she thought.
Karnal gave her a weary look, and then rode off.
They made their way across the Dead Lands, a setting sun coloring their path orange. The going was easy enough.
The land was flat and formless. They passed by old battlefields, riddled with half-sunken corpses, each of them with leathery skin and pulled faces, finding some sort of morbid humor in death. Arya shuddered as they moved.
Even Solembum swore every time he stepped on an ashen face, which seemed to gasp as it crumbled. Night came soon enough. They rode through it, riding into the morning. As they progressed green slowly returned to the land, Arya even saw trees and birds, along with brown pastures that were nicked with cold. Winter was nearly upon them.
"We are close to the Empire's heartlands." Karnal warned, and their eyes were peeled for riders. They never saw any, and kept their ways away from settlements that they came across.
It was then that an arrow crashed through one of Karnal's men, jutting through his throat as he let out a wet whimper, blood sputtering from his neck. Elyenorthuril swore, drawing his blade and pointing it towards the huddled gathering of trees that lied before them.
"In the forest!" He cried as his Elved took up defensive positions.
"Protect the Princess!" He ordered.
Solembum strung his own weapon, loosing an arrow that hit a man square in the head as he lumbered out of the brush. More men followed, weapons raised and screaming. They wore Imperial colors, armored men and even a few knights. Arya drew her own blade, charging into the fray with her guard.
They smashed into the humans, men screaming as hooves stomped in their faces. Arya swatted away spears as they darted around her body, stabbing one man in the eye with the point of her blade. Elyenorthuril swung his sword by either side of his horse, felling men right and left. Karnal and his own troops fought behind them as Imperial soldiers surged past, beginning to gain the upper hand. Some of Arya's guard were pulled from their horses and stabbed.
She raised her sword, roaring.
"Fall back!" She cried. Elyenorthuril parroted the order. They turned and galloped a few ways backward, behind Karnal and his own men as the Imperials advanced.
Solembum notched arrow after arrow, each of his shots ending lives. He attacked until he had no more arrows.
He then turned into a panther, surprising the Imperials as he pounced into their ranks, tearing out throats with his claws and teeth. Karnal fought with no weapon, instead using magic in place of sword or spear. His spells were simple, but effective. He muttered them while magic flickered in the air. Arya saw men slip on their feet, leaving them vulnerable to an attack by Solembum or her elves.
Some spells were more powerful, engulfing arms and hands in fire. But with each attack, he grew weaker.
Arya rejoined the fight, her horse prancing into battle. The Imperial line was faltering, and it seemed that they would win . . .
Until a horn sounded behind them. Arya turned, soul dripping wet with despair as she saw fully mailed knights mounted on massive warhorses charge. They were on them in seconds.
Arya cursed silently as a lance exploded into Elyenorthuril's chest. The elf gibbered incoherently.
His attacker left the lance inside his body, riding off while drawing his sword. Arya fought her way towards Karnal as men convulsed on him, reinvigorated by their allies. He noticed her as she hacked her way through, and looked at her with desperate eyes. He dug into his cloak, producing the box. It shined brilliantly, and a collective pause settled over them, before he tossed it to Arya.
"Protect it!" He cried, as his action cost him his life, a heavy axe landing on his head. Arya caught the cargo, and saw that her guard had rallied around her. Solembum as well, still fighting, though a gash was bleeding on his hind thigh, marring his fur.
"We must flee." She said, and one of the Elves with her nodded.
"You must. Two of us will go with you, the rest will stay and hold them off." The Elf warrior turned away from her, head dipping towards the advancing Imperials.
"But I cannot simply-"
"Go!" Solembum cried, jumping over her head and snarling as he toppled a knight that was riding up behind her. She watched with wide eyes as the Xoshan Elf caught the screaming man in the neck between his teeth, cracking it with a swift turn of his powerful jaws.
"Go!" he growled, mouth filling with the human's blood. She nodded.
Arya rode away, her two companions riding with her. She turned one last time, and saw Solembum stagger as a lance cut into one of his frontlegs as he pawed at a knight. Solembum howled then, a large yelping call that steeled her resolve.
She didn't have time for tears.
She rode.
Her companions died.
Durza.
Urgals.
Pain . . .
Arya woke panting as Durza's pale hand was fixed on her forehead. She was strapped to a wooden plank, her clothing ripped and her body invaded from every possible opening by Durza's cruel instruments of torture.
"Useless!" He cried, releasing her head and backhanding her as she blacked in and out of consciousness.
"Where is the egg!" He cried. Arya stared at him blankly. Durza cursed and turned, his sweaty back causing his shirt to cling to it. A fire was glowing behind him, and he brought out a strange tool, one with three prongs that glowed red from the heat of the fire. Without warning, he dragged it across her face, burning flesh and cutting deep.
Arya ground her teeth in anguish. The pain was beyond normal. As she sunk into darkness, she inadvertently called for help, not by sound, but by magic. It was heard, but before she could respond to the listener, she fainted.